


Darker Vices

by earlybloomingparentheses



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Discussions of violence, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Offscreen whipping, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlybloomingparentheses/pseuds/earlybloomingparentheses
Summary: Before it all starts, when they’re in port for a few days one May—before the talk of mutiny, before the disaster with the schedule, before the betrayals and murders and all that comes after—Captain Flint follows Billy Bones through the dirtiest back streets and alleys of Port Royal to a house of vice even the worst of his crew hasn’t heard of.
Relationships: Billy Bones/Captain Flint | James McGraw
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Darker Vices

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this a few years ago and for some reason never posted it! long live black sails.

Before it all starts, when they’re in port for a few days one May—before the talk of mutiny, before the disaster with the schedule, before the betrayals and murders and all that comes after—Captain Flint follows Billy Bones through the dirtiest back streets and alleys of Port Royal to a house of vice even the worst of his crew hasn’t heard of.

Billy doesn’t know Flint’s there till it’s finished. Till he’s been stripped naked to the skin, splayed out on an X of wood, tied at the wrists and ankles, and been whipped long enough that red welts spring up angry across his back and legs. The man holding the lash is silent but through the open doorway Billy can hear slaps and thuds and the cries and moans of other men. Billy himself keeps quiet, save for the huffs of air forced from his lungs every time the whip falls sharp and bright across his skin.

He pays the man with coins from his discarded trousers pocket, rubbing at his chafed wrists, and then looks up: and there in the doorway is Captain Flint.

“I’d have thought you got enough of this sort of thing aboard ship.”

Billy looks at him, not a word left in his mouth.

Captain Flint cocks his head at the man with the lash, flipping him a coin, and the man leaves, shutting the door behind him.

“Does it hurt?” Flint asks.

Billy nods. His ears are still ringing with the sound of the whip. His skin is burning. He’s struggling to pull himself up from that strange numb place he goes when the pain gets just right.

“Always wondered why you didn’t visit the whorehouses,” Flint says. “Gates thinks you’re a paragon of virtue, but I suspected otherwise.”

In the navy, Billy would be court-martialed for this and certainly hanged. But this isn’t the navy.

“You’ve got…” Flint steps closer, “darker vices.”

Billy is naked and weaponless and weakened. If Flint pulls out his knife, Billy’s almost surely dead.

“That’s good,” Flint says. “There’s nothing more dangerous than a truly virtuous man.”

He swings an arm around and clasps Billy on the back of the neck. Billy gasps as Flint’s hand connects with Billy’s swollen skin. Flint squeezes and starbursts of pain explode behind Billy’s eyes.

Flint removes his hand and Billy chokes out breath after breath, willing his dizzying arousal to subside before Flint looks down.

“They know what they’re doing here, don’t they,” Flint says conversationally, inspecting his palm. “No blood.”

Billy tries hard to swallow, but his throat is dry. “Captain…”

“I know what I’m doing, too,” Flint whispers roughly, and grabs Billy by the chin. Billy’s chest heaves. Flint digs his nails in. He peers intently into Billy’s eyes, forcing Billy to meet his gaze.

“They don’t fuck you here, do they?”

Billy shakes his head.

“What do you do? Wait till you’re back aboard ship? Go out in the alley and take care of yourself right here?”

Heat rises to Billy’s face. He can feel the blood pumping in the stripes on his back. “Sometimes I make myself wait,” he mutters. “Sometimes…”

Flint lets out a harsh bark of a laugh. “What was it going to be today, Billy? Now or later?”

Billy doesn’t answer. Flint moves his eyes down, slowly, deliberately, to Billy’s cock, still erect.

“Really? You’re not afraid I’ll beat you senseless for this? Smash your face in and leave you bleeding out?” Flint steps even closer. “Or is that what’s making you stand at attention?”

“At this point,” Billy says, daringly, dangerously, “I’m experienced enough to know the difference between a threat and foreplay.”

Flint throws his head back and laughs. “Billy Bones,” he says. He looks at Billy, eyes narrowing. “Billy Bones.”

Then he raises two fingers to his mouth and spits on them.

Billy shifts to a slightly wider stance and feels his heart pound loud against his chest.

Flint reaches around behind him and parts his arse cheeks with his thumb and fourth finger. The movement stretches the welts on Billy’s upper thighs, sending searing hot jolts of pain up through his body. Flint’s second and middle fingers, slick with spit, find Billy’s arsehole and push.

Billy’s dry but he’s hardly the tightest man alive and the intrusion hurts, strains, pulls, but makes him go even harder. Flint works his fingers in up to the first knuckle, stretching the opening of Billy’s arsehole till it’s clenched around Flint’s fingertips.

Flint twists, and a whine escapes Billy’s throat.

“If the crew could see you now,” Flint breathes. “What a sight that would be.”

He spits on his other hand and grasps Billy’s cock. Billy whines again, high-pitched and involuntary.

“Pirate’s a good choice for a man like you,” Flint says, moving his hand ungently up and down Billy’s prick. “Depending on how you look at it, you’re never really on the wrong end of a fight.”

Billy gasps. His arsehole feels obscenely full like this, with Flint’s fingers shoved just inside. Flint jacks him off roughly, spit and Billy’s precome barely enough to lubricate his way. Billy tips his head back, wanting to feel the welts on his back move and stretch.

“Not enough for you?” Flint murmurs in his ear. “You have trouble getting off, Billy? Is that it?”

Billy, overstimulated but still frustrated, feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes. Slowly, he nods.

“Is it the pain or the violence that does it for you, I wonder,” muses Flint, and then bites Billy hard in the soft triangle of skin between his neck and shoulder.

Billy shouts. Flint’s teeth dig into him, sharp enough to rival the pain of his back, and Billy comes hard, gasping and choking as he spills over Flint’s hand.

Flint pulls his mouth away. There’s a drop of blood on his lips. Billy spasms again, a little more come forcing its way out of his prick.

Flint gives the fingers in Billy’s arse another little push and then pulls them free. He shakes his other hand, letting Billy’s come drip onto the dirty floor, then wipes it off on a pile of soiled linens in the corner. Billy watches him, unable for the moment to move.

“I’ll see you back on ship,” Flint says. “I don’t want to see those welts causing any trouble for you in carrying out your duties.”

“No, Captain,” Billy replies automatically.

“Good.” Flint turns to go. “Oh, and Billy,” he says, stepping closer, eyes growing dark, “if you ever feel in need of a good whipping, you can just ask me.”

He leaves. Billy swallows, heart in his mouth, and brings his hand up to his shoulder. He can still feel teeth marks there. He closes his eyes, and breathes in deep.


End file.
